Something Special
by Takada Saiko
Summary: Valentine's day is when you make sure the person special to you knows that they are. DrummerWolf. Valentine's Day fic. One shot.


**Something Special**

With the way they traveled, it wasn't unusual to lose track of time. Days, weeks, and even months blended together and calendars never did have any real meaning. Amanda had forgotten her own birthday and it would have passed her by completely if it hadn't been for the phone calls that had come in. Not that those always helped. She hadn't realized that she had missed a call - or several - from her brother over the course of a week when she had lost her phone charger, and when her phone had powered back on she had barely caught him in time to keep him from reporting her as a missing person. As penance, she had agreed that she and the rest of the Rowdy Three would make a detour for a visit.

Martin had been surprisingly cool with the idea. He never argued a direction, especially when it was intuition leading them there, but their first attempt to visit the detective agency had been such a disaster that she'd been surprised he was willing to give it a second go. She'd even offered to just have him drop her off, but he'd shrugged that particular idea off. Where she went, they went. The agreement from the back of the van had been less enthusiastic than usual. Vogel had sounded like he might actually protest, but Martin had shut him up immediately with a well placed glare towards the back that had ended with Amanda shouting at him about the vehicle in front of them.

It took them two days of driving to get there and Martin had to be hassled to pull over for breaks. At one point Beast had actually kicked the back of his seat, her hands pressed against her ears to drown out Cross' loud complaints about that last can of beer and the fact that he had to peeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Martin was always the most focused of the original four Rowdies, but even Amanda hadn't seen this level of complete tunnel vision to the point that it took physical coercion to get him to pull over. It made her suspicious, but of what she wasn't quite sure yet.

The Oh No Van rumbled up into the driveway outside of the large house that Farah had bought as the agency's financial backer and Amanda had never seen them pile out so fast without something immediately available - or allowable - to wreck. Vogel and Cross were tripping over each other, both stoved up from the last leg of the drive, and Beast jumped into the middle of it taking the other two fully to the ground with her. She was up again in an instant, her cry of " _Bibbit_!" echoing off the building and she launched herself at Dirk.

Gripps caught Martin on the way past, his voice almost too low, but as Amanda strained her ears she could barely make out "better make it worth it, man" before he stretched to join their brothers.

"Hey, sis! You guys made record time," Todd called as he jogged towards her from the front of the house. He tried for a wave and something that may have passed as a smile at Martin who brushed past him with a small grunt of acknowledgement, even less friendly than usual with him, and Amanda saw him aiming for Dirk who was still trying to pry Beast off of him. Farah stood back laughing at him, absolutely no help at all.

"Okay, that guy has gotten weirder. Has that guy gotten weirder?"

Amanda shook her head, grinning as she reached for Todd to pull him into a hug.

"Does he actually hate me or is he always like that?"

The grin faded just a little as her gaze slid past Todd and to where Martin was speaking to Dirk, the detective looking like it was taking every ounce of self control not to start bouncing where he stood, an intentionally and over exaggerated serious expression plastered onto his face as he nodded. "He doesn't hate you. Martin's been focused on…. something."

Todd pushed a long breath out through his nose. "Are you guys… you know, a thing now?"

Brown eyes shifted back to meet blue and she shot him a withering look. "You know, not everyone has your need to label everything, Todd."

"I don't label everything!" her brother sputtered.

"But you try," Farah chirped as she rounded him to pull Amanda into a hug. "Hey you. How's life on the road?"

"Busy, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to a hot shower and eating, you know, off a plate. It's the little things."

"These guys taking care of you?" Her dark gaze shifted around to where Vogel seemed to be trying to find a way to stand on Cross and Gripp's shoulders, their height difference just one of the many difficulties he was having.

"They're the best," Amanda assured her. "Yo, Vogel. Put the bat back in the van."

"But, bossssssssss," he wailed, slipping and tumbling back to the concrete, landing hard enough that it sounded like he knocked the breath out of himself. He laid there for a minute, a little dazed, but as Gripps started to lean over to check on him Vogel bounced back up and was on his feet again, trying to suck in a lungful of air. "How're we gonna…. wreck all that pretty glass if we… don't have…"

"Breathe," she reminded him and he gulped hard.

"'Member what Martin said. We can't wreck it this time," Cross said, his own voice sounding a little disappointed.

"Ah, man! What's the point?!"

"We actually have a shed around back with some old junk in it," Todd offered a little hesitantly. "That should- And there they go."

"Leave it standing, boys!" Amanda called after them.

"Did you want that shower now or later?" Farah offered and Amanda thought she might have some understanding of Martin's laser focus right about then.

"Now. That's definitely a now."

* * *

It had seemed like a good idea when he had cobbled it together. When the call had come in a couple of days earlier and Drummer had promised that the Rowdy Three would make a detour, Martin's mind had gone into overdrive to find the solution to a problem he'd been working on for the last couple of weeks since he'd caught sight of a calendar at a gas station. He and Drummer had been dancing around feelings since Wendimoor. He wasn't sure if there was a definition for what they were, much less if they'd found that definition or even needed it, but he did know that there was one night a year that most people that loved someone went out of their way to make sure they knew just how special they were. He had been racking his brain for something different, something that he could actually pull off to show her that, and the idea had struck him when he'd heard their next destination.

"Don't be angry, but I let Farah in on it so that she could keep Amanda distracted."

"What part of _don't tell anybody_ did you not get?" Martin growled, his voice deep and dangerous and he saw Icarus jump a little at it, his energy turning more nervous than before.

"Well, it's not like I told _Todd_ ," the lanky man answered. "And Farah can keep a secret."

"Better 'n you, apparently."

"That's rude. You shouldn't be rude when you ask people for favours." Martin glared a little over his glasses and Dirk Gently shrank back. "Please don't hit me… or feed off me?"

The blond snorted. "Ain't gonna hurt ya," he promised and moved further into the kitchen, blue gaze sweeping over the room. It was huge, just like the rest of the house that they both lived and worked in. It was too big when compared to the closeness of the van and too small and confined when compared to the vastness of the space they had available to travel, doing as they pleased when they pleased. He would never have been as eager to come along if it hadn't housed the thing that he needed to work out his idea for Drummer.

"Do you even know how to cook?" Icarus asked cautiously as Martin started opening cabinet doors and looking through drawers to see what he had available to him. The pantry was surprisingly full of food, as was the fridge. This might be doable. "I mean, do you actually eat real food?" the detective continued thoughtfully. "I know you…. Feed off of energy of some kind-"

"Neurological energy," Martin filled in for him, head still stuck in the fridge.

"Right. Of course. Not at all creepy. But do you eat? Food, I mean. Real food."

"We can. Ain't gonna hurt us to. Doesn't help us much either."

"How does one even go about finding that out? I mean, the natural inclination-"

"Trial an' error. You gonna stand there and prattle the whole time?"

He watched Icarus snap his mouth shut, looking a bit like a scolded child. "I'll just leave you to it then," he muttered, finally slinking away.

Martin waited a long moment before he drew a deep breath in, all the strange smells coming with it, the strangest one his own nervousness. It was unusual, and a little sour. What had he been thinking? He hadn't cooked in _years_. He wasn't even sure he remembered how. What if he accidently gave her food poisoning or something? That was a thing, wasn't it? What if he got her sick because he didn't remember what order things went in or how hot the stove was supposed to be? It wasn't like he'd ever used instructions when he'd cooked as a kid. He'd done it all by smell and….

He blinked hard. That was it. He'd done it all by smell.

Martin pulled in another breath. Okay. That he could do.

* * *

It wasn't that Amanda didn't bathe. For as often as they traveled she stayed pretty clean. There were showers at rest stops - usually colder than she liked, and she had to share the space with strangers - and a sink bath if she got really desperate. Dry shampoo had become her best friend over the months on the road, but nothing topped a real, honest to goodness hot shower with shampoo and conditioner and shower gel. That, and Martin had barely stopped for bathroom breaks or food breaks. While she might not look like it, she could feel the layers of grime starting to build over the last couple of days and she saw dirt wash down the drain with a look of disgust. She was going to have a talk with that man about his hyper focus next time. He might be okay with a layer of dirt and sitting through hours and hours and _hours_ of driving, but that didn't mean she was.

As the water turned off Amanda found herself thinking about the blond Rowdy's strange behavior since that phone call had come in. Strange was relative with them, but she liked to think she had a pretty good grasp on what was considered normal for Martin, and he'd been weird the last couple of days.

There were too many possibilities, but she thought that it had to do with Dirk on some level, which was odd in and of itself. As far as she knew the two men weren't exactly friends. The Rowdy Three had fed off Dirk for years and he'd had a near meltdown at their last visit when a game had gotten out of hand and a chair had gone crashing through one of the giant windows at the front of their office space. That wasn't even touching on the scuffed floor, the dents in the wall that the baseball had left, or the table that would have held Vogel's weight just fine if he hadn't been jumping on it. Dirk had gone into a panic, Todd had yelled, and Farah had just stared blankly at the chaos. It had been Martin that had whistled, rounding them up, and shuffling them out of the house without a word of apology. They were the Rowdy Three. It wasn't like anyone should expect any different, really. Still, Amanda was surprised at how… easily Dirk had welcomed them back in. The only thing she could really think of was that Todd knew that they were a package deal. If he wanted to see his sister, he also got the rest of the Rowdies with her. Hence the Rowdy-approved shed in the back.

Amanda reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself, using a smaller one to scrub at her long, dark locks and work some of the excess water out of them. It felt good to be clean again, and she wondered what Martin would think of the rose-scented shampoo that she'd used.

And then she stopped, blinking hard. Well _that_ had been out of nowhere. She and Martin were close, and it wasn't like she was a good enough liar to convince herself that she wasn't at least interested. He was sweet and loyal and a complete and total badass. He wasn't hard on the eyes either, but they weren't together or anything, and every time she thought about making a move she worried about what she might screw up between them. They were in a good place. A comfortable place. Why screw with it when it worked?

 _Because it might be so much better_ , a small voice seemed to remind her and she shoved at it hard. This wasn't the time for that. He would already feel jittery being trapped inside closed walls that weren't the van. He was here for her and the last thing she wanted him to feel was cornered. With that decided, Amanda towled herself off, slipped into her clothes, and tied her thick hair into a knot on the top of her head. Someone was cooking something that smelled _good_. She was going to take a note from Martin's playbook and follow her nose.

The space was huge, housing both the detective agency in the front and a set of rooms that Dirk, Todd, and Farah lived in in the back. The kitchen was in the middle, best Amanda remembered, and she followed the smell of seasoning and sauce all the way to it, rounding in and expecting to see Farah there, because she sure as hell knew neither of the boys cooked like that.

Instead she found a blond Rowdy standing with his back to her, facing the stove, and he was watching over the pots there. He turned as she inched closer, feeling like she was walking into some weirdass dream, and she could see him tossing chunks of seasoned chicken in the skillet. "Oh. Thought you'd be a little longer."

"Hi….. Where have you been hiding this crazy amazing talent since I've met you?" She inhaled deeply, suddenly half starved, and she reached over to take a peek under one of the lidded pots to find pasta of some sort soaking in sauce and bubbling. It smelled fantastic.

"Thought you might want somethin' nice," he huffed, his words chopped and his gaze darted away from hers and back to what he was doing. "Grab the plates?"

"You know you're not getting out of this without an explanation, right?" she laughed, looking through the shelves for plates they could use. She found some and turned back to the island in the middle of the kitchen, finding a bottle of wine there. "This for me too? For… us?" she corrected, gaze sweeping around to find the two glasses sitting there.

"Long as you don't mind the company."

"I've never seen you eat more than a few fries off my burger plate. Do you guys secretly eat normal food when I'm not looking?"

He smirked a little at the tease. "Nah. No real point most of the time."

"But there is tonight?"

He ducked his head a little and Amanda had to admit that Todd was right. He was acting really weird.

Together they got the food shuffled onto the plates and the wine poured into the glasses. Martin didn't have the natural inclination to _have_ to shatter every breakable in sight - though he did enjoy a good wrecking as much as any other Rowdy - but it was still strange to see him handling the plate full of food and glassware so delicately. His rings clinked against it and she looked him up and down. His mohawk was slicked back instead of standing on end like it usually was, and it looked like he had tucked his shirt in as best he could under his vest, but it really wasn't long enough to stay. The bandage had been removed from his nose and his boots had been dusted off. As he set his plate and glass down on the table she noticed that it looked like he'd scrubbed the crap out of his hands, the consistent layer of dirt and oil from the van washed away and leaving his tattoos on his wrist much more visible. He'd cleaned up for this. Very weird.

They sat down and Amanda took the first bite full of food, the question of if it would taste as good as it smelled quickly answered and she couldn't help the small, appreciative sound that escaped her. It wasn't that she didn't like fast food, but there was something about a really good home cooked meal. She chewed and swallowed, reaching for her glass. "Okay, fess up."

He gave her an innocent look around his own fork load of pasta and chicken.

"Uh-huh. You come barreling here-"

"You wanted to see your brother. Ain't gonna stop you."

"You didn't have to break the sound barrier to do it though." She shot him a look and he stuffed another bite in his mouth rather than answering. "And the moment we parked you were out and whispering all searcetively with Dirk. Was this it?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I told you-"

"Yeah, but it's bullshit and both you and I know it. This is a nice dinner - and don't think that's not my next question as soon as we're done with this one - and I'm not the only one in the Rowdy Three that doesn't live off of emotional energy anymore, so this is just for me. Why?"

So much for not cornering him. Martin ducked his head and she thought she saw the tips of his ears tinged pink. "That's what you're supposed to do, right?"

She took a deep breath, trying to pull back a little. "What do you mean?"

"Today?"

"Valentine's Day or some shit?" he grumbled. "You're 'sposed to do somethin' special."

Amanda's jaw dropped and she pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the date. "Holy shit. Is that… You did…." She took a long drink from her wine glass. Martin had cooked her a super special dinner for Valentine's Day. He'd turned them around and driven through two days and a night to get there in time to bum Todd, Dirk, and Farah's kitchen from them so that he could cook her an amazing dinner for Valentine's Day. She'd dated a lot of guys that hadn't done that much for her.

And she'd embarrassed him. Fuck.

She cleared her throat and picked her discarded fork back up to twirl it in the pasta. "It's insanely good. Where'd you learn to cook?"

Martin blinked hard from behind his glasses and cleared his throat. "I, uh… my mom worked a lot when I was a kid and I was _always_ hungry, so I just kinda learned."

"I never knew," she managed, hoping the amusement didn't sound forced. It was a sweet picture to think of little Martin rummaging around a kitchen in some house somewhere with his normal life before everything had gone so crazy. He never talked about it. None of them did, so Amanda didn't really think about it, but now that she had she couldn't stop thinking about it. She imagined him pulling chairs to the countertops when he couldn't reach and accidentally turning mixers on high and spraying the wall with food. All blond hair and blue eyes and trying to figure out how to do it all for himself. "You never talk about your childhood. What about your dad? Was he around?"

"Nah. He skipped out before I remember."

"But you knew your mom? What was she like? Or is? Holy crap, I guess you may have a family out there. Is your mom-"

"She died."

Amanda didn't have to be a psychic vampire to pick up on the change in his mood. He'd been embarrassed before, but now he was borderline hostile in his tone. His shoulders were hunched forward and his fist visibly clenched against the table. Bad memories then. Really bad memories.

She reached across and touched the back of his hand, jolting him out of whatever memory he'd sunk into and drawing his attention. "I'm sorry," she tried. "Bad to worse was not the plan."

"It was bad?" he asked, sounding a little wounded.

"No, not the… I just meant that I keep sticking my foot in my mouth up to my kneecap. This is amazing, Martin. I don't think I've ever had anyone do this before. Most guys just take you out for a dinner a little less cheap than usual and expect to get laid that night. I've never had a guy cook for me before." She stopped, a thought striking her. "I mean, you do know this is a date, right? Like… this is what you do when you-"

"I grew up in a government facility, Wasn't born there, Drummer." Finally she heard that spark of amusement in his voice and when she looked up she saw a hint of it in his eyes and the way that his lips quirked ever so slightly at the corners. "Sayin' that…. This is what you want it to be. Ain't askin' nothin' from you."

A soft laugh escaped her and she tightened her hold on the back of his hand. "You already know, don't you?" He made a small sound of affirmation. "Dude, so not fair," she chuckled and found him smiling finally. There was an intensity in those eyes of his that captured her, pulling her in and as good as dinner was, it was the last thing on her mind. It was so rare that they got a few moments together alone, and she wanted to make the most of it. He knew how she felt and he wasn't distancing himself. He was putting himself out there, offering without making her feel like she owed him anything.

Something in his small smile faltered and a sadness took its place. He finally relaxed his hand and turned it over under hers, his fingers against the underside of her wrist and he swallowed hard. "I was sick lot as a kid," he said slowly, his drawl even more pronounced than usual. "Mom worked a lot, tried to get me into a lot of different doctors. None of 'em could figure it out. She gave up everything for me as a kid and I…" He grimaced and Amanda pursed her lips together and slipped her hand into his. "She's dead 'cause of me."

"It wasn't your fault."

"You don't know that."

"Sure I do. I know you. You one hell of a badass, but man, you're a softy deep down for the people you care about. It's one of the things I love most about you." Amanda froze as soon as the words escaped her lips and she knew she'd said too much. She hadn't even been drinking enough to warrant that kind of confession, especially when she hadn't even risked making it to herself yet.

Martin looked at her, his expression more open that she was used to, and there was a lot of pain there. More than he ever let the world see. Instead of pulling away she tightened her grip, stood, and rounded to his side of the small table. She found him looking straight up at her and she held that gaze. "I know I don't know half of what you've been through and I'm not asking you to lay it all out on the table here and now, but I do know people that have been through a fraction of what you have have turned out a ton worse. You're a good man. Maybe a little crazy sometimes-" she smiled at him and waited until he echoed it - "but the best kind."

"Didn't scare you off?" he murmured, his voice rough as he looked up at her.

Amanda leaned down and her lips met his. The kiss was more tentative than she would have ever expected from him, and he let her lead all the way. Finally she broke just enough so that she could speak. "I don't have anywhere to be but here for you," she whispered and heard him loose a breathless chuckle.

"And, ya know, lookin' for all the pieces of the broken universe," he murmured.

"Well, yeah, that too." She grinned. "I wouldn't want to do it with anyone else though."

His smile grew a little and he reached up, his fingertips running along her hairline. "I don't think I know how t' do it all at once, but… I'll tell you everything. Anything you wanna know. I don't wanna keep anything from you, 'Manda."

She swallowed hard, her eyes lulling as she leaned closer again. He never called her by her name. Drummer had become the affectionate nickname that the others had picked up on, but Martin never called her by her name. Now, though, it added weight to the promise and she pressed another kiss to his lips. She'd known for some time that he was special, but that night, as his arms circled her waist and she kissed him, Amanda let herself admit just what he meant to her.

* * *

Notes: Between Howl Until it Hurts and the Wynonna Earp fanfiction I've been working on, I had forgotten how hard I ship these two. I do love them dearly.

And Becca, if you happen to read this (because I saw you're reading Howl), welcome to the Dirk Gently fandom! I've missed you XD


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